


for you are everywhere

by AnnaofAza



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Pre-Kerberos allusion, Season/Series 02, Sheith in Summer, Skinny Dipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25827235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaofAza/pseuds/AnnaofAza
Summary: He looks up and over at Keith, hesitantly, his scars cutting deep across his chest, his stomach, even his hips—before diving into the pool, feet first, like leaping off a cliff.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 67





	for you are everywhere

The castle has a pool. 

It's by far the nicest Keith's ever swam in, not choked with chlorine and screaming families or shattered beer bottles lurking at the bottom. The water's always the perfect temperature and always clean and crystal clear, and after, he always feels calmer. Maybe there's some hokey Altean magic at work. 

Best of all, he pretty much has it to himself. Pidge hates getting wet, Hunk and Lance have taken to reprogramming the bots for roller hockey or soccer or any other sport they missed on Earth, and Allura and Coran are far too busy. 

Keith really doesn't know how to swim that well—basically living in a desert would do that—but a school had a two week-long pool unit and he was forced to learn. In the end, he could only dog paddle and float and tread water, do the bare minimum to prevent himself from drowning. 

Shiro, he knows, was good at it. The Garrison had a wide stretch of an inside pool in the gym, and Keith remembers the guilty but toe-tingling hours of taking a jog or pretending to study while Shiro did his laps. The unspoken was that water therapy was good therapy for Shiro's limbs, suitably low-stress and low-impact, but Shiro genuinely seemed to enjoy it. He was a powerhouse, cutting through the still water like a motorboat and doing lap after lap after lap. 

Shiro would like the pool, Keith thinks. 

But Shiro always refuses. It's the same sort of reluctance, even shame, that crosses his lips that when one of the bots aims for his face, when Lance brings up a memory from the Garrison that he can't quite recall in time, when Black resists another command. 

Keith hates the Galra. He hates them more now that he thinks... His mother was probably a warlord, as ruthless as Sendak—even though he knows this doesn't line up with what his dad said: her gentle cradling of his delicate head, her soft smile that was free with both of them, her sleepy humming over the crib. He knows enough about adults that they can lie, to paint a prettier picture or to obscure a crack in the chassis, but the naive part of him wants to believe his dad. 

But she left them alone. She didn't come back. If she could go to Earth once, why not again? And so the anger kept fueling him, a familiar sensation that keeps him going. 

And what if she had hurt Shiro? He can't bear the thought, but he has dreamed...terrible things, of a faceless soldier cutting deep into Shiro's skin, teeth bared in a sadistic grin—

When he wakes up, he never tells Shiro about it, and Shiro, with nightmares of his own, never asks. They just hold each other in the dark, and Keith thinks, at least they have this. Something that the Galra hadn't taken from them.

* * *

This time, it's Shiro who bolts awake, a strangled gasp from his throat. 

Keith bolts awake, reaching for the knife tucked underneath the mattress, when he catches himself in time. God knows he doesn't want to make it worse. 

Shiro's flush with sweat, right hand clenched in the sheets, the other cupping his throat, already swinging his feet to the edge of the bed. 

"Do you want to go spar?" Keith asks softly. 

Shiro shakes his head. "No," he manages, "no, I don't want to hit something. I just need to..." 

They end up stealing away, down the hallways, and walking around the castle, Shiro gradually relaxing, breathing easier with each minute. He knows Shiro counts each room, mentally tallying his surroundings but also making a note _: I calmed down by this door, I didn't fall apart, I'm doing better._ All Keith does is follow him, trailing after him without a sound. 

That's how they end up at the pool. 

The lights are off, with only the faintest light leaking from the hallway. The only sound is the lapping of the pool and their bare feet scuttling along the edge of the pool, holding hands like they used to under the desert sky. 

"I remember nights like this," Shiro says softly. "We snuck out, and the sky was always so clear and perfect." He pauses, sighs. "I miss our stars." 

"I do, too," Keith admits. 

Shiro's hand squeezes his, holding for a breath. “Keith…” he begins. 

The lights go completely out, and Keith stifles a gasp; have the Galra found them again? 

But it's not dark for long: bluish-green crystals come to life across the ceiling and walls, throwing ethereal light onto the water. This time, he does gasp—and so does Shiro. It's... 

“Wow,” Shiro whispers.

He drops Keith’s hand, and his fingers drop to the hem of his long-sleeved shirt, pulling it up and over his head, allowing it to drop soundlessly onto the smooth marble-like floor. Next come his pants, shucked down to his ankles and kicked unceremoniously to the side, as his toes kiss the edge of the pool. He looks up and over at Keith, hesitantly, his scars cutting deep across his chest, his stomach, even his hips—before diving into the pool, feet first, like leaping off a cliff.

Keith follows, clothes and all, realizing halfway how stupid it was—but Shiro’s laughing, playfully covering his face to avoid the splash.

Under the lights, Shiro looks beautiful, and Keith approaches him in small steps until he’s almost chest to chest. “Hey,” he whispers playfully.

Shiro grins, reaching out, hands sliding over his hips and pulling him close.

Keith remembers the Garrison, where he had to bite down on his knuckles to keep from crying out, where each movement was fraught with caution, where he counted each day until Shiro got permission from them to go beyond the grounds. But until then, they made do—locks on every door, covers thrown over their bodies, clothes that could be buttoned and zipped in seconds. Every breath a secret...

Each breath now is hungry, unrestrained, as if the cover of darkness makes it safe. Keith trails his fingers through the water, holds Shiro’s shoulders as delicately as he would his dad’s crackly radio. He mouths at the droplets clinging to Shiro’s chest, trying to ignore his bangs plastering to his eyelids, hands roving over water-soft skin, gentler over the puckered dark pink slashes. He knows he's been given a gift, a fragile sort of trust; talking will be left until later, or never. 

For now, Shiro lifts him effortlessly; he’s weightless as drifting through space, Shiro as his tether. It doesn’t matter; every doubt he’s ever had melts beneath his hands, and the coolness of the water barely drinks the heat away, with Shiro responsive beneath him, lights dancing across his shoulders, left hand trailing up the back of Keith’s knees, his thighs, where the wet fabric sucks uncomfortably close to his skin, and Keith pulls away, smiling reassuringly at Shiro.

“I got to get these off,” he says.

He reaches down, and with some difficulty, slips off his pants with some impatient tugs and whirl of bubbles, then throws the sodden cloth poolside, then his shirt, indecently thin and little more than a dishrag.

Shiro laughs again, and he again lifts Keith up, over his hips, Keith automatically wrapping his legs and arms around him like an octopus. With each kiss, they move out farther and farther into the deep end, but Keith is not afraid, even as his shoulders go beneath the water.

Underwater, he opens his eyes: Shiro’s hair is a halo around his face, eyes closed, his scar drawing tight over his nose, limbs akimbo. All the air in his lungs is connected to Shiro, breathing him in—he clings harder to Shiro; he will not lose him, and he won't let go. 


End file.
